Senators and Pomegranates
by lemon-sprinkles
Summary: AU; Politics, war, and sex were inextricably linked during ancient Rome. It was a game - a gamble of life, love, and loss. Albert was more than willing to play. WeskerxChris
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the below piece of fiction- Capcom and the historical past do._

_Warning: Male/Male sex, violence, mentions of suicide, and boring politics_

**Authors Note: **So I wrote this for the lovely **Kaeari** who requested that I write Wesker and Chris in a different setting outside of the RE universe. She suggested a prince/slave setting, but I decided to go and be typical and write them in a time period I adore- ancient Rome. There will be a lot of historical things in this so if you get confused or want to know more about something, do not hesitate to ask me. The setting is before the assassination of Gaius Julius Caesar, and goes all the way up to the rise of the Roman empire. Of course it also involves Chris and Wesker in a romantic setting, so I hope you enjoy that!** The story will be in 2 parts, and the next part will be posted in 10 days, so please stay tuned!**_  
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* * *

Walking through the crowds, Albert found himself stepping over a broken pot, muddy puddles filled with cow manure and straw, and a bushel of stomped and destroyed grapes, all while seamlessly avoiding the gazes of those looking for an impromptu meeting with him. Ducking past the raised arm of a herald, he gave the man a reproachful look as he passed before turning his attention down the cobbled street, once again weaving through as the smell of smoke, sweat, and animals.

Nearing the large, richly decorated building, Albert studied the tall pillars that were gleaming at the top but sullied at the bottom, neck craning slightly as he neared the building but refused to look away from the place he had begun to call home. He found himself heading to the building more and more often, his white toga wrapped firmly around his lithe frame every morning as he got ready to do what all Roman citizens should do—talk politics.

Finally returning his attention to the steps in front, Albert placed his sandaled feet on the smooth, once-clean surface, turning his back on the busy and crowded forum romanum, the roar of the cattle carts and boisterous conversations slowly diminishing as he passed the first set of pillars, the morning sunlight becoming grey and muted as cold air crept along his skin. A reprieve from the almost suffocating heat one could experience in the forum itself.

Nearing the large, double wooden doors, he paused before entering, seeing three of his fellow senators talking together, their poses relaxed and confident, but their eyes betraying another story. Glancing at the doors once more, Albert surmised the congregation had not started yet, and moved over to the three men.

"Hello, Aquila, Spurius, and Brutus," Albert said, nodding at the three men as they stopped speaking and turned to face them. Spurius was the first to smile, his pudgy face betraying the lavish lifestyle he had become accustomed to.

"Hello, Albert," he said, beady eyes roaming over his form for a moment. "A nice day, is it not?"

"It is, it is," he replied, gaze flicking to the young Brutus as he stood beside the two of them, his mouth turned upwards in a barely-there smile.

"I would be even better if we didn't have to hear the loud sound of stone masons working away over there," Aquila grouched, the wrinkles that were etched across his face growing deeper as he frowned. "I'm getting sick of this new construction."

"Well, you can blame Caesar for that," Brutus chimed in, voice soft and words well-spoken as he stood between the older men. Albert gave him a quick study, trying to gauge his emotions through all of the false idle chatter, but found it impossible to get past the subtle smile that was always playing at his lips.

"Caesar's forum will be done in a few more months, do stop complaining about it," Spurius stated, his fingers going to pinch the bridge of his nose in what appeared to be an attempt to stave off a headache.

"Careful, Spurius," Albert began, his hand clutching the white fabric that was draped over his arm. "If your headache is just beginning I believe you'll be in rough shape sooner than usual."

"Oh, don't remind me that the day has just begun," he said, giving Albert a stern look before a smile cracked upon his face once more. "Although I heard some good news that may be giving you a few headaches in due time—is it true that another child is on the way?"

Nodding, Albert shifted once more, the weight of the situation bearing down on him again. "Yes, Excella is once again with child. We hope this time it will be a son."

"You don't seem happy about it," Brutus stated, an eyebrow raised as Albert once again put on the emotionless face he wore so well before. Brutus' ability to read even the stiffest of statues was unnerving, and his ability to don the robes of a naïve young man despite being quick as a snake made Albert distrust him. But two could play that game, and Albert had become accustomed to deceiving him and others around him through well-placed comments and calculated facial movements.

"I am happy that another child is on the way, but that is that. Should I feel anything more?" he asked, head cocked to the side ever so slightly as the two of them studied each other.

"No… No, I suppose not," Brutus finally said, relaxing a fraction before turning his attention to someone behind him.

Striding up the steps was Mark Antony and Cicero, a grim expression on both of their faces. Smirking to himself, Albert watched as Antony turned his attention immediately to the three of them, his face brightening as he moved away from Cicero, the contempt they felt for each other radiating off of them even as Antony neared them and distanced himself from the chickpea. Albert never really knew why Antony hated Cicero so much (he suspected it was because of a woman; it was always about a woman with Antony), but revelled in the rivalry that blossomed between them.

Albert was not fond of Antony at the best of times, his manners crude and crass and his knowledge of the political world about as large as a grape. He was a solider, through and through, and although Albert was not fond of him, he did not underestimate the man's ability to lead an army. Unfortunately, though, Antony had not been on campaign for some time, and was instead stationed in Rome to look after the city while Caesar was away. This meant that Antony spent most of his time lounging in the dining halls, drinking too much wine, and fucking away the day with his newest love interest, a freed slave named Cythera. Disgusting…

But the contempt he felt for Antony was nothing compared to the loathing he felt for Cicero. The man was too full of himself and flip-flopped between what side he was going take. While the civil war was taking place he fled the city, leaving his daughter and wife alone in Rome while he debated which side he would choose, trying to avoid committing himself until the end. Near the end he picked a side—the wrong one, of course. He chose Pompey, a mistake he soon regretted. Now he was once again a member of the senate after pitifully sucking up to Caesar after he promised to accept all those who came to him in peace. A weak and foolish move. Now there was a fox among the chickens, waiting to strike.

"Ah, my dear men, how are you this fine morning?" Antony asked, and Albert could see the bags under his eyes as he approached them, his gate steady while trying to put on a good show of being only half drunk from the previous night's exploits.

"We are doing well," Brutus said, cutting Aquila off before he could begin grousing about the masons once more. "Wesker here was just telling us that his wife is with child again."

Giving him a lewd look, Antony raised an eyebrow at Albert. "Took time away from fucking your slave boys to show the beautiful Excella the wonders of what married life could be like?"

Reigning in his temper, Albert smiled softly instead, although it appeared forced as he turned to look at Antony. "I only give pleasure to my wife—I suggest you do the same."

Laughing, Antony slapped Albert hard on the back. "I'm not married, and for that exact reason! Why deny yourself pleasures in order to live a life of servitude?"

"Are you honestly unwilling to wed?" asked Brutus.

"You ask me that as if you don't already know the answer," Antony said, shaking his head before glancing over his shoulder at the large double doors. "I never thought I'd say this, but I believe we should get to work."

Giving Antony a bland stare, Albert simply nodded in agreement, wishing the conversation to be over as soon as it had come. His sexual… preference was not unknown among the men, but to have Antony put it so crassly and announce it so publicly made him feel ruffled—even more so than when he had seen Brutus, Aquila, and Spurius speaking so… intimately.

Leading the way to the doors, Albert gave the forum one last look—a longing stare into freedom before he had to be stuck in a room with moronic, pompous fools—when something caught his eye. Pausing just a moment, he watched as a group of young men walked through the forum; worn cotton tunics resting across their broad shoulders and belts tied tightly around their waists, their hands seemingly poised over swords that had long since been placed in a corner to rest. They looked like soldiers who had been let off duty for a time—their general was probably stationed back in Rome, meaning they had some time off. They seemed as if they were common plebs, but their gaits and postures betrayed their career. Losing them for a moment as they walked past a pillar, Albert waited for them to reappear between the pillars directly in front of him, wanting to catch a glimpse of them again.

Rewarded once more, he watched them out of the corner of his eye as he and his fellow senators were stopped at the door. One of the soldiers kept Albert's gaze, his features intriguing him. He was tall and tanned, his hard work keeping him outside for most of the time, while his short cropped brown hair shone under the ever increasing sunlight. A smile seemed to continually tug at his lips, and Albert found himself wanting to see it once more before he had turned and continued down a path that kept his back to him. Soon he and the others were lost among the crowed, leaving Albert restless.

"Are you alright?" Aquila asked, boney fingers locking around his arm carefully. Turning his attention to him at once, Albert eased back into his own self and nodded.

"Yes, I am fine. Simply pondering the day's topics," he stated, and his lie seemed to have worked because Aquila was once again frowning as he turned slightly to look at the construction just a short ways away.

"Yes, pondering the day's topics… It had better involve those masons," he grumbled as they all stepped into the circular hall.

* * *

**XX**

* * *

For the next week, Albert was unable to keep the image of the young man out of his mind. He hated how he had become so easily infatuated with some solider he had seen for but a moment in the forum, but try as he might he couldn't get rid of the gnawing feeling in his mind that prevented him from doing any real work. It infuriated him to know he was just as susceptible to a handsome face as Antony seemed to be. While he was more subtle about it, it was the exact same thing, and Albert wanted to flog himself for such trivial thoughts.

Of course, he tried not to let his new found distraction show, going through the motions of senatorial work while conducting the business affairs of his household as he always had. But everything was done with thoughts of the sun-kissed soldier lurking in the shadows.

"You've been preoccupied," Excella said, her hand resting on her stomach, gold rings reflecting off of the sunlight from the front door. Pausing halfway out of it, Albert raised an eyebrow, wondering why she was bringing this up as he was headed to a meeting at Lucanus' house.

"Why do you say that?" he asked, stopping his slave from walking too far ahead with a flick of the wrist.

"I've just noticed you've been staring off into space when you're working in your study. Usually you're so focused on what you're doing you hardly hear anyone when they call you directly," she said, hand leaving the developing bump to instead play with one of the long curls of her dark black hair.

"I am fine. Perhaps I am thinking too hard about the possibility of a son," he said, and he knew she did not believe him as her kohl-rimmed eyes narrowed slightly.

"Perhaps…" she said after a time, turning to return to the house. "I will see you for dinner?"

"Yes, you will," he said, nodding at the slave to continue forward as he left the house, the doors closing behind him as they stepped into the courtyard. One of the servants led a large, black horse towards them, but Albert stopped their approach with another flick of the wrist before continuing towards the gate. He needed a good long walk to clear his head.

Excella knew—she always knew what was really going on with him. They hadn't married out of love, but it wasn't as if anyone did. It was all about politics when it came to marriage. Sleep with and admire the one you love, but marry the one who will get you where you needed to go. Excella had come from a strong Roman line, her family having been members of the elite upper class for generations. They claimed that they were part of the original few who had founded Rome along with Romulus, but proof of such claims were lost to the past. Albert was lucky to have married into such a strong line.

While he was fully Roman, as was his father and his before him, his ancestors had hailed from Gaul. They had moved into Roman territory when it was first expanding and integrated themselves deeply into the political world due to trade connections, earning themselves a place among the elite after those around them forgot that they were 'barbarians'. Soon enough, as marriages were sealed and new generations were created, the Wesker line had become fully Roman—no longer were they Gauls masquerading as ones. But despite this, Albert still felt as if his political career was threatened by his ancestry, especially after the Roman Republic waged war on the barbarians to the North. He was Roman, but not all would look past his fair skin and light hair so readily. And so he married into Excella's family, connecting himself to one of the oldest Roman bloodlines around to destroy any possible threat to his political career.

It had worked well enough. His senatorial position was as strong as ever, and before Caesar had become so influential he had been slowly inching his way closer to the position of consul. But now there were rumours surfacing that Caesar was planning on declaring himself dictator once again…

"Are you alright, my lord?" his servant asked. Realizing he had once again become lost in his own thoughts, Albert nodded, forgetting that it was probably not the man's place to ask in the first place. Increasing his pace down the twisting streets, he greeted those who greeted him first, and paused only to let a cart pass. Reaching one of the markets, he kept his slave close as they traveled through the stalls, taking the shorter but busier route to Lucanus' house. Many of the nobility wished to stay clear of the common areas of the city, but Albert did not and instead found himself often going to the common markets to catch some of the gossip that slid through the lips of the people on a regular basis.

It was always good to know what the plebs thought about Rome, and occasionally to know who was having an affair with whom. Albert was never above using blackmail to get what he wanted.

Returning his attention once more to the task at hand, Albert continued through the market, avoiding a man carrying a carpet through the stalls all while going over what he was going to say to Lucanus in their meeting—he sincerely hoped that no one else was going to be there. He hated having to keep appearances up at all times, and Lucanus knew what Albert was really like—embracing it, even. Some were turned off by Albert's cold, calculating behaviour, but he knew it was a necessity for his line of work. Show your weakness for but a moment and anyone could strike your weak spot and—

Narrowly avoiding the flying body of a man, Wesker stumbled back as another man was tossed out of a brothel, the smell of sex, wine, and incense following them out. Bracing his hand on his servant as he stumbled back, the slave almost dropped his wax tablet but managed to hold onto it as the men began to pick themselves up from the dirt floor.

"Ah, fuck you, you fucking cunt! We weren't doing anything wrong!" One of the men picked himself up faster than the other, and headed back to the brothel, yelling at one of the courtesans who was still standing in the entrance way, hands on her hips, breasts hanging out of her translucent dress while the skirt stuck to her skin, the air of the brothel thick and hot.

"Maybe if you learned not to hit one of us and obey the rules we wouldn't have had to kick you out, you fucking pig! It's not our fault you're a sick bastard," she yelled back, and the man looked like he was going to hit her before the other one stood up from the ground and grabbed his arm, yanking him back.

"Reign in your temper, Lucius," he growled out, knuckles going white as he squeezed down on Lucius' arm. A tense moment passed before Lucius stepped back from what would have been a losing fight, the bodyguards in the brothel having stepped forward.

"You're lucky you've got someone watching your back," Lucius said to the woman. She simply scoffed at him, her tangled hair giving her a crazed look as she stared the man down.

"We should leave," his friend said, voice soft but dangerous, and at that moment Albert finally turned his attention away from the yelling drunk to inspect his companion. Steel grey met deep blue, and Albert held back any sign of shock as the familiar face of the man from the forum appeared before him. He looked wild close up, the life of a solider appearing deep in his eyes. He was on guard, both in body and mind as the two of them stared, unable to look away before the soldier finally broke their gaze, a subtle blush appearing on his cheeks while his eyebrows furrowed.

"I swear I did not hit her, Chris," Lucius said, voice now pleading as the two men walked away, disappearing quickly through the crowed. Shifting a little, Albert caught the man turning to look over his shoulder once before he was lost.

"Are you alright, my lord?" the servant asked, and Albert spared him a glance before stepping forward, ignoring the calls from the brothel as women tried to get him to come in, life in the lower streets once again returning to normal. Weaving through the crowds, Albert repeated the name he had heard over again, rolling the syllables around in his mouth as he continued forward.

Chris…

* * *

**XX**

* * *

"I've always found these sorts of events terribly boring," Brutus said, disguising a yawn behind his hand. Leaning against a bright red pillar, Albert nodded but did not say anything, instead preferring to listen to the hum of conversations around him.

Caesar had returned from a diplomatic trip in Gaul, and everyone was eager to speak to the man who had put himself at the top of the pack. But, of course, there were requirements that had to be met, and in the hustle and bustle of trying to schedule a senate meeting, Atia, Caesar's niece and mother of the young Octavian, had managed to set up a dinner party the night before the first senate meeting was set. In doing so, she had managed to make the event one of the most talked about parties in Rome, and numerous people wanted to get in, hoping to be able to speak to Caesar for just a moment.

Excella knew about the dinner party before most people did, her fingers in every gossip circle around Palatine Hill, and managed to convince Atia to place them on the guest list before anyone else knew. Albert knew there was a good reason he had married her.

Of course dinner parties such as these were filled with pointless conversations, and Albert did his best to work the room, Excella gracing his side as they passed through conversations, easing into the different tempos of conversation until eventually they had spoken to everyone they could possibly think of. After dinner, drinks were had, and conversations once again began, but this time the lighting was darker and the mood more intimate. When this time arrived, Albert took the chance to step back from it all to listen to what other people were saying—_really_ listen. Everything had a double meaning in the Republic.

"Have you spoken to Caesar yet?" he asked, ignoring Brutus' obvious boredom with the party. He had seen Caesar a few times throughout the evening, and had a short but uninteresting conversation with him. He was waiting for Caesar to make another move in the senate—it was far too early to come to any solid, unified idea of what his plans were. Rumours were spreading that he was going to attempt to try and declare himself dictator for life, others saying he was preparing to give land to the veterans, while some said he had decided to retire and live the rest of his life in peace—a move Sulla pulled off only years ago.

Either way, Albert was wary but ready to react should Caesar threaten the Republic.

"No, not really… Mother has, of course," he said, sipping some of his wine as his gaze wandered to watch Servilia, who was sitting a short distance away, her hair pulled up in a magnificent crest, golden leaves adorning it.

Servilia and Caesar were in love. It was true love, some said. Albert saw the way they looked at each other, and he could almost feel the yearning. It was a feeling Albert had never experienced himself, and yet he knew how strong a man Caesar must be to resist temptation in order to fulfill his political duties. They weren't married, and never would be. Once again, love was not what made a marriage.

"Did she learn anything of interest?" he asked, seeming uninterested but honestly curious about what sort of conversation they may have had. Servilia was no fool, and Caesar trusted her… Perhaps too much.

"Not that I know of," Brutus said. It was worth a try. "Although I heard an interesting story the other day…"

Raising a brow, Albert turned his attention away from Servilia to see Brutus smiling at him, eyes heavy-lidded from the amount of wine he had consumed. Interested, but also weary, Albert let Brutus have his moment. "A few weeks ago I heard you were visiting a brothel down where the plebs frequent."

Not knowing how to handle it, Albert paused for a moment, at a loss for words—for once. He had mostly forgotten about the events down in the market district, having been caught up in some tiresome squabbles in the senate. He had even forgotten about the young solider, Chris, for the most part, although occasionally thoughts of the battle-scarred man would enter his mind when he had time for reflection. "Where did you hear that?"

"From Antony, of course. He said a story started to spread through his ranks and eventually reached him—two of them saw you. Or maybe three… Perhaps four. It depends on the person you ask and what version of the story you hear," Brutus said, a smile on his lips as he teased him.

"How do you know that was me?" he asked, not denying it… just yet.

"A description was given. A man of upper class status, high cheekbones, and light blond hair. Might be from Gaul. There is only one senator who looks like that."

Sighing, Albert took a small, calculated sip from his wine cup before replying, his attention going back to the room. "I was near the brothels a few weeks ago, I will not deny that. But not for the purpose you believe it to be. I was cutting through when my scribe and I got caught in the middle of a brawl in front of the brothel. Nothing more than that—ask Lucanus if you don't believe me."

"No need to explain yourself to me," Brutus said, still smiling. "Just remember that people have been talking about it. Perhaps you should be more careful as to where you get caught in a brawl next time."

Smirking, Albert nodded once. "True enough. Thank you for the information, though." It was always good to know gossip; especially when it was about you, and especially if it gave you valuable information on mysterious soldiers. So Chris was one of Antony's men…

He didn't have time to dwell, though, before Excella approached them, a smile on her lips as she gazed at Brutus. "Ah, Brutus, how has the evening been treating you?"

"Fine, my dear. And yourself?"

"Well enough," she said. "But I fear our night is almost done."

Taking that as a sign she was ready to go, Albert placed his cup down on one of the many surfaces around, and held his arm out for her to take. "I will see you tomorrow, Brutus," he said as Excella pressed herself close.

"Yes, we shall. And Excella, do take care."

Leading her away, they said their goodbyes to those important enough before leaving. Albert kept an eye out for Caesar, but noticed both he, Octavian, and Atia were missing. Excella insisted they leave right away, though, suddenly feeling faint, and Albert had no choice but to fulfil her request. Of course when they returned to their house, she wasted no time in telling him all of the gossip she had heard, that unfortunately mostly dealt with the women around her. Who was sleeping with who, which slave had tried to steal a few jewels—stories that were as common for the upper class as broken skulls were for soldiers.

But then she said something of note when they had climbed into bed. "Servilia tells me that Caesar is taking quite an interest in Octavian."

Raising a brow, Albert turned around in the bed to face her back. "What for?"

"She didn't say, just that the two have been getting closer. Someone suggested that Octavian has been sleeping with Caesar, but I find the idea of that most unlikely. Octavian has about as much charm as a limp fish."

Suddenly things had become a lot more interesting.

* * *

**XX**

* * *

"I believe you owe me an apology."

He had obviously startled the young man, and watched with some amusement as the soldier dropped the small wooden cup he had been holding onto the warn table in front of him. "I-I'm sorry, sir?"

Sitting down in the market bar, Albert ignored the filth on the floor and the curious looks of the people around him, and instead stared straight ahead at Chris. He hadn't intended to run into the man, having figured that the likelihood of ever running into him again was incredibly low—but it seemed that fate had different plans. He had been returning from another meeting, and once again decided to cut through the plebeian sections, trying to catch up with the latest rumours. Caesar was beginning to make the whole city hum. But upon his return he saw Chris sitting in a bar, a cup in his hand as he sat near the entrance. The lighting was low, but Albert knew it was him as soon as he saw his eyes peeking out over the mug.

Unable to resist, he finally approached.

"I am the senator whom you saw outside of the brothel a few weeks ago."

Obviously Chris remembered, for the blush that Albert thought he had seen outside the brothel was once again present, only this time it was hidden by his dark skin and the low light. "Er, yes… Yes, I guess you are."

Unimpressed with his answer, Albert was tempted to leave, wondering what had drawn him to the man in the first place. Handsome, yes, but his intelligence was lacking. But then Chris did something that made Albert pause once more.

"I'm sorry for that mix up, though. I wasn't the one to spread the rumour. Lucius has a knack for telling stories in order to get himself a little bit of attention—I keep telling him to keep his mouth shut but he can't resist licking a few arses in order to get someone talking about him." Chris' spiel, although crass and uncouth, charmed Albert for some strange reason. Rarely had anyone talked to him in such an upfront manner, and he enjoyed the brashness of him—it was refreshing. But then he did one more thing that surprised him again. "Did you want a drink? I don't have a lot of coin on me, but I have enough for one more cup of watered down wine. A token of my apology."

Not missing a beat, Albert shook his head. "No, that is quite all right, but I appreciate the sentiment. Although if you would really like to make it up to me, perhaps you would do me the honour of having you come to my place for some wine—I assure you it is of much better quality than anything you could find here."

Something about this man captured Albert's imagination, and he wanted to hear him speak a little more, perhaps tell him some stories of life in the army… Not to mention, knowing one of Antony's soldiers in a more intimate manner may pay off in the long run. There was no telling what he knew, and if Chris continued to be so brash then perhaps he could learn quite a lot. As well, Albert enjoyed hearing his voice, despite it being rough and deeper than what he was used to.

Chris seemed to have been caught off guard, eyes wide and mouth slightly slack. "Uh… I mean, aren't you a senator?"

"Yes… and this matters why?"

"I mean… Well, look at me," he said, sitting back to show off what Albert thought to be a very broad and nice chest. "I'm just a soldier, sir, and I don't want to disrespect, but I have a feeling I won't be much of a guest."

"Nonsense," he said, waving his hand for one of his servants to approach. "Stay with him and lead him back to the house once he is ready," he instructed the young slave as he stood up and dusted off his robes. The slave went to stand beside Chris, and Albert watched with some amusement as he looked over his shoulder, mouth still open, to stare quizzically at the slave.

"Where are you going?" he asked, turning his attention back to Albert, who was now leaving the small hole in the wall.

"Back to my house—I have a few things to attend to before you arrive. When you're ready, just tell him so and he'll escort you," he instructed before leaving, not even waiting to see if Chris would agree. They always agreed—one way or another.

* * *

**XX**

* * *

Lounging on one of the couches, Albert plucked a grape off of the little table where fresh fruits, cheeses, dried meats, and wine had been placed. Rolling the grape between his fingers, he admired the glassy red colour before popping it in his mouth. Turning his attention back to the stoic man on the other couch across from him, Albert raised a brow.

Chris had arrived a little while later, just in time for the late afternoon snacks to appear. He seemed to have cleaned himself up a bit, but it probably amounted to him simply dunking his head in a well of water on his way over. When he arrived, he tried to keep his eyes ahead of where he was going, but Albert could see him admiring the frescos on the walls and the ferns and palms growing in the outer courtyard. When he had reached the dining area that was underneath the open ceiling, he sat down on one of the lounge chairs and seemed afraid to do anything.

Letting him take it all in, Albert offered him some wine and food, but for the most part let him sit and look around, figuring he hadn't been in a place quite as lavish as this one.

"So your name is Chris, right?" Albert asked after a time, picking up another grape as Chris turned his attention away from one of the slaves who was fanning them with a large ostrich feather. Albert hated having them around the house, but Excella insisted.

"Oh… Well, yes, yes it is. Chris Redfield," he said, playing with his drinking cup. "How did you know?"

"I heard it outside of the brothel when you were thrown out," he said, an amused smile tugging at his lips as Chris once again began to fidget.

"Once again, I am sorry you had to see that, sir. As I said, my friend can get a little carried away…"

"What were you doing there?" he asked, curious to know what sort of people Chris liked to bed.

Raising a brow, Chris finally locked eyes with Albert. "I was… Well, I was relaxing a little. General Antony's legion has been stuck in Rome for so long now that we have nothing to do while we wait for something to happen. Eventually you get bored and… Well, the brothel is a good place to relax."

"I never relaxed much when I visited such establishments in my youth," Albert drawled out, once again smirking as Chris looked startled. "Of course, I never went to any of the places you probably went to. We have brothels up here, but the men and women there are of… higher standard."

"O-Of course," he said, bowing his head down to look at his cup. Albert surmised he probably hadn't even seen a proper drinking cup with such an elaborate bottom before, and might be admiring the delicate painting through the thin amount of liquid that still rested at the bottom.

"How long have you been a soldier for?" he asked, curious about the army. It was something he knew about in a political way, but he had never actually spoken to any other soldiers about their times in the army. He wanted to take advantage of this opportunity, in case Chris decided to leave out of sheer intimidation. These men could face death head on, but when put in a situation involving the upper class and social customs, they looked as scared as a child in front of a raging bull.

"Nine years and six months," he said quickly, as if he had counted the days from the beginning. "Of course, I'm not a member right now, due to numerous factors. But I hope to sign up again once forces are needed. Not that I'm saying I want there to be another war, but… Well, money is getting tight and I do odd jobs to get by, but sometime soon I'd like to get back out there."

"What is it about the army life that you like?" Albert asked, interrupting Chris as he once again made move to apologise for his rambling. Albert liked it.

Shrugging, Chris sipped his wine before placing it back on the table. He reached for a piece of dried meat, but looked at Albert first to make sure it was okay. Nodding, he watched Chris pick it up and chew it before replying. "I like it because I am good at it."

Snorting, Albert rolled his eyes. "An obvious answer, but not the full truth," he said, reading Chris like a book. "Tell me why you really like it."

"I… I enjoy the power it gives me," he finally admitted. "I like the rush I get from stepping onto the field, knowing I am going to win because I am a member of the Roman army—we never lose. Growing up as a plebeian, you don't have a lot of freedom or say in how the republic works, but when you join the army you feel like you're part of the force that drives Rome and her cities."

"And?"

"…And?"

Smirking, Albert shrugged and turned his attention to the food in front of him. He would press further later. "Have you ever had a pomegranate?"

"N-No, I cannot say that I have," he said, once again checking the open space around them. Albert could tell he was looking for any danger. A soldier through and through.

"Try some," he said, sitting up. Picking up half of the fruit, Albert picked a few seeds off before going to sit beside Chris, his thin, white fingers grasping Chris' arm to pull it close. Feeling the hard muscle under his grasp, Albert was surprised when he met no resistance, and easily pulled his arm close to drop three seeds in the broad, calloused palm.

"Thank you," Chris mumbled, taking his hand back slowly, his eyes downcast on the seeds. Watching his face, Albert waited for him to taste one of the seeds, pleased when the small red berry passed his thin lips.

"How does it taste?" he asked, gaze flicking down to his throat as he swallowed, watching the muscles flex and then relax.

"Subtle," Chris said, playing with the other side between his fingers. "I heard this fruit was a gift from Venus… I can see why she would like to share it with our sorry arses."

Albert couldn't help but laugh at that, once again charmed by his rather blunt way of speaking. "The gods in times seem to enjoy gracing us pitiful humans with some of their more wonderful things, this is true."

He could see Chris smile as well, before he turned to look at Albert. Startled by their close proximity, he seemed to shy away for a moment, pulling back a fraction as if he knew not what to do. Albert stayed where he was, reading Chris' face carefully. Deep set eyes, strong jawline, thin lips, a scar running past his left ear all the way to the tip of his chin—a deep slash against his cheek. Wanting to reach out and touch it, Albert grew more curious about what other stories lay on the soldier's flesh, but stopped himself when Excella walked into the room, their young daughter trailing behind with the nurse maid a short distance away.

Standing up quickly, Chris almost knocked over the table, but ignored it in favour of standing in position, back stiff and eyes staring straight ahead. Rolling his eyes, Albert stood up as well and smiled at Excella. "Excella, my dear, please come and meet Redfield. He was a member of Antony's army before they disbanded after the civil war. He was just telling me some of his exploits on the battle field."

Excella gave Albert a quick look before she smiled softly at Chris—although her eyes stayed icy cold. "A pleasure to meet you."

Relaxing a fraction, Chris brought a fist to his chest, a formal way of greeting for soldiers. "A pleasure to meet you as well, my lady."

"I wish I could have sat and heard your stories as well, but it seems Albert had forgotten to tell me that we had a visitor. Please forgive me for not attending," she said, hands going to rest on the baby bump while their daughter pressed herself close against her leg.

"It's all right," he said, easing out of the position. "Perhaps he could relay the stories to you another day, but I promise they're nothing very exciting," he said, and Albert admired his ability to speak in front of an upper class woman. Most men stumbled over their words about six times.

"I think it is about time you left, though, do you not agree?" Albert said, turning his attention away from Excella's cold gaze to look at Chris, who looked more than ready to leave. "I'll have one of my people show you the way out. But I do hope that you return."

"I… It would be an honour," Chris said, saluting Albert. "It was nice of you to have me over—your hospitality is much, er, appreciated."

Nodding, Albert waited until Chris had left the room, led by one of his servants, before turning his attention back to Excella. "Please take Melino back to her room," he said, talking to the nurse maid behind her. Nodding, the maid came and took the hand of his daughter, leading her out of the room. Waiting until she was gone, Excella kept her gaze on the food laid out before going to lounge on one of the couches.

Picking up a grape, she looked it over before going to chew it slowly. "I would appreciate it if you did not bring home a man in which to fuck during the day when our daughter is still awake," she said, her gaze flicking up to lock eyes with him. Standing still, Albert kept their eyes locked before sitting back down across from her.

"I was merely looking for information on the military side of this republic. It takes more than senators and political gossip to really know what's going on."

"Don't lie to me and insult my intelligence," Excella said, her voice clipped. "I just would rather not see the men my husband is having sex with. I'm sure the same would go for you."

Biting his cheek, Albert reigned in his temper and continued to sit, staring at the seeds from the pomegranate that sat, uneaten, on the table.

* * *

**XX**

* * *

Caesar had declared himself dictator for life. The senate was in an uproar, and the stones that held their republic up began to crack and crumble under the pressure.

* * *

**XX**

* * *

"Are you alright?"

Turning his attention away from a wax tablet in front of him, Albert gave Chris a curious look. Since their first meeting down at the market, Chris had been visiting more and more often. At first he had seemed hesitant to come over, one of Albert's slaves leading him in almost like it was punishment. But as the weeks went by he began to grow more and more comfortable in the lavish household, and had even stopped asking Albert if he could eat a grape when it was clearly offered to him.

On a few occasions Excella had joined them, and listened to some of the stories Chris would tell. He would always tone it down when she joined them, but sometimes he would get far too much into the story and describe every gory detail. Surprisingly enough, Excella seemed to enjoy them—they were probably more interesting than many of the stories she heard from her female companions.

But after a few months of idle conversation and increasing comfort, things began to turn sour for Albert. The senate was in disarray, the men who worked their entire lives for a shot at power were now standing on the cusp of losing it all. Caesar had begun to take more and more power, displeasing the optimates of the senate who disliked his standing with the people. He had also begun to give land to his veterans, all while making those under the Roman republic official citizens of Rome.

Albert was displeased with all of this. He felt as if his entire life—everything he had been striving for—was being plucked out of his hand by a man who figured himself a corporeal form of Jupiter. And for once in his life, he was beginning to feel useless; he had nothing he could do to stop it. Not without the backing of a large number of men at his side, that was.

"I'm fine," he said, watching Chris nod once, although he seemed not to believe him. "Why do you ask?"

"You're not asking anything of me today. Usually I come here and tell you all about my exploits as a soldier… You haven't asked for a story today."

Shrugging, Albert went back to reading the tablet. It was a letter from Brutus, asking him for a meeting. "I'm just a little preoccupied today. Excella and my daughter have left for one of our villas in the south. She's expecting soon, and the smell of the city is making her ill. I just hope that she arrives there safely."

Nodding, Chris went to eat some of the food available to him while Albert wrote a reply, before he asked another question. "Do you love her?"

"Who?" he asked, head still bowed as he told Brutus he would meet with him in the morning.

"Your wife."

"No," Albert replied easily.

"Why not? I mean, she is your wife…" Clearly Chris seemed confused by the upper class' views on marriage and love.

"You don't marry out of love—you marry because of political reasons. She came from a strong family line and I wanted to be a part of it," he explained as he finished the letter and passed it to one of his servants to give to Brutus. "Besides, she is a woman."

"So?"

Sighing, Albert looked at Chris, reading his curious expression before answering. "I prefer the company of men. I thought I made that clear."

A blush immediately spread across Chris' features, and he moved to take a long drink from his wine cup. "I thought as much."

"Hence why I do not go looking for companionship with my wife," he finished, going to lounge in his chair. "Does this make you uncomfortable?"

"No… No, not really. It was commonplace in the army. I mean, you have men all around, and if you've read any Plato you can understand the importance of those relationships."

"You've read Plato?" he asked, amazed. Chris kept surprising him.

"A bit, not a lot, though. But… Well, I'm wondering something now."

"What is that?" Albert asked, picking up his own cup to drink from.

"Are you looking to have sex with me?"

Raising a brow, Albert stared at Chris from over the rim of his cup. He caught on faster than he thought. Another surprise. "Perhaps. Does this make you nervous?"

"You seem to forget I'm a soldier. I've been propositioned before," he said, regaining some of his composure.

Humming, Albert placed his cup back down on the table before sitting up. "Did you ever accept?"

"You're a senator, Wesker," Chris said, dodging the question. "We're both Roman citizens and this isn't… this isn't acceptable." As he said it, he looked away from Albert, and he could read the hesitation in his stance. He didn't really believe that, did he?

"Do you know how many men Antony has slept with?" he asked after a time, head cocked to the side as Chris shifted again. "He's slept with a lot more than you probably expected for a notorious womanizer. There is nothing wrong with enjoying another man's body."

"I never said there was, I'm just saying… We're both free men and citizens of the Republic…"

Snorting, Albert stood up and moved to sit beside Chris, and Chris did not move away this time. "Tell me another story—I need a distraction," he ordered, the wine and the soothing light from the candles in the otherwise dark room calming him.

"A story about what?" Chris asked, and Albert could hear him swallow thickly. "I could tell you one about when we were ordered to—"

Chris faltered when Albert placed his hand on his thigh, thin fingers rubbing the course material under his hand. Pleased that he hadn't pulled away, Albert slowly rubbed his thigh while his gaze stayed fixed on Chris, who was still staring straight ahead. "Go on…"

"I-I… I don't remember what I was saying," he admitted, and Albert felt him stiffen again, his body shivering under his touch. Sliding his hand up further, Albert continued to touch his leg while he stared at the young man's face.

"Look at me," he said, not quite a command but not a request. Chris did it, following it like a solider was trained to do. Locking eyes with him, he kept his hand on his thigh—a gentle touch. He couldn't see anything in Chris' eyes save for that same wild look he always had. Reaching up, Albert touched the scar he had wanted to feel under his fingertips for so long. It was soft, the skin slightly raised and puckered. He suspected the colour was what his skin looked like before he spent hours in the sun. Tracing it from his ear to his chin, Albert ended up cupping it, feeling the stubble that was there. He smelt like leather and musk, with a hint of wine. "How did you get this?"

"A fight… A brawl," he said. His breath smelt like pomegranate seeds and spiced wine. "Someone got a lucky hit with a knife… Almost took my eye out."

"Do you have any other scars?" he asked, and Chris could see something flash behind those deep blue eyes of his.

"Yes."

"May I see them?" Albert asked, and Chris' eyes went to the slaves standing behind them, their expressions blank. Seeing where his gaze was, Albert turned around and shooed them off before going back to face him. "If we go to my bedroom, would you show me?"

Looking back at him, Chris locked eyes with Albert once more. Without any tremble in his voice or a sign of hesitation, Chris answered him. "Yes."

When they entered his room, Albert moved to strip himself, pulling off the silk tunic he had been wearing all day. Tossing the blue fabric onto the end of the bed, he waited until he could feel Chris behind him before turning around, immodest about his nudity. He watched Chris' eyes roam for a moment, and let him. Some time passed in which Chris just stood still, before he reached up and took his own, rougher tunic off. Letting it fall onto the richly decorated floor, he stood still in front of Albert.

He looked gorgeous, Albert decided. His chest was broad, and the skin across it was a rich, dark honey colour. The hair on it hid most of the scars, but Albert could see one running along his right peck. Following the trail of hairs down his stomach, he noticed another scar along his side, deeper and longer than all of the other ones he'd seen so far. Resisting the urge to close the gap and touch it, he continued to trail the contours of Chris' body with his eyes, paying attention to his strong thighs and slim waist. Finally gazing upon his cock, Albert was pleased to see he was well endowed, his thick member sitting nicely in a patch of dark brown curls.

Finally stepping forward, Albert reached out to touch the scar on his side, pressing himself close as his nimble fingers slid up and down it. His other arm wrapped around his waist, hugging him close as he applied a soft, tender kiss to his neck. "How did you get this one?"

"A Gaul got me from the side when we were forced to break rank," he mumbled, his own hands going to slide up Albert's back, calloused fingers rubbing deliciously against his skin. Albert could feel him duck his head down into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. "You smell like pomegranates."

Smiling softly, Albert hummed and went to find the scar on his chest with his fingers, running though his soft chest hair until he found the raised bump. "And this one?"

"Training. I got too cocky and was sliced for it," he said, voice deep and rich against his ear.

Pulling away slightly, Albert went to look at Chris through heavy-lidded eyes, admiring how the angles on Chris' face popped when in the dark confines of the bedroom. Moving to cup his face, Albert once again looked into the wild eyes he had become so intrigued by, wishing he could see the world Chris lived for just a moment—to harness the physical power he did. It was almost intoxicating to hear the stories and see into his eyes like this, to come so close to grasping the strength and wield it as his own.

Moving in for a kiss, Albert waited to see if Chris would move away, but instead he moved forward until their lips were almost brushing. Breaking their gaze, Chris looked down at Albert's lips for a moment before backing up. "Don't tell anyone…"

"It will be our secret," he whispered against his lips before moving in to kiss him deeply. The taste of spiced wine, figs, and the pomegranate seeds, combined with a taste uniquely his own filled his mouth, and Albert wanted more. Tangling his fingers in the rich brown locks, he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue inside Chris' mouth to explore. He could feel Chris' hands wrap around his waist, and he let himself be guided back to the bed as they continued to kiss.

Soon they were on the bed, rich silk blankets surrounding them as Albert explored Chris' body with his tongue, swirling it along his nipples and gliding it along the scars, memorizing the body of a warrior. Soon enough it was hot and muggy in the room, the late Roman night air breathing over their skins, heightening every touch; every kiss; every breath.

Albert enjoyed how sure Chris' touches were—how in command he was of himself even when he had shown hesitancy before. His strong, broad palms held onto his pale hips as he slid his cock between his thighs, rocking together as they fucked on the bed. Pressing his cheek against Chris' he listened to his heavy pants and low moans, growling himself every so often as Chris bit his neck and touched him all over, taking away all of the stress he felt with every kiss. Perhaps this was what Chris meant when he said he visited the women of the city to relax.

They carried on for some time, neither one of them giving away too much—the politician in Albert making an appearance, while it was the warrior in Chris. But eventually they both had to concede, and Albert relished in the feeling of Chris' cock jumping against his own as they released together. Chris let out a low, animalistic growl at the end of it all, his body shaking under Albert's own as they touched each other to completion, the smell of sex and incense heavy in the air.

* * *

**Part II will be posted in ten days!**_**  
**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Here is part 2! Thanks for all of the positive reviews and I'm glad you guys enjoyed the first part! Hope you like the second! **

* * *

He wasn't expecting this. He knew that Brutus was upset, same as everyone else except for possibly Antony, but he had never expected him to be the one to begin orchestrating the plot.

"He's like your father, Brutus."

"And he needs to die," he said, voice full of conviction as he sat across from Albert in the large, open office. All of the servants of the house were gone, leaving the two of them alone as Brutus told him something that finally shocked him into silence.

He wanted to assassinate Caesar.

"Are you sure you know what you're saying?" he asked, still in shock. "This could be considered treason if you share with the wrong person."

"That is why I am not sharing this with the wrong person," he said, sitting further in his seat, intensity in his gaze.

"How do you know you haven't already done so?"

"Are you saying you'd betray me?" he said, and Albert could hear the hesitation in his voice. "Perhaps I had read you wrong."

Eying him, Albert moved to straighten the cuff of his tunic. "Perhaps you did…"

"I know I didn't." Brutus said it immediately, and Albert knew Brutus could read him far too easily. "You're just as frustrated with what he's been doing—he's declared himself dictator for life, Wesker! He wants to ruin the republic. Ever since he waged war on Pompey and crossed the Rubicon he has been taking too much from us. We are no longer in charge of Rome; he is."

"And you honestly believe that death is the answer to your troubles with him?"

"You know as well as I do that he will not retire as easily as Sulla—he craves the power he gets from being in absolute control."

"Just as we crave the power to be consuls and senators," he drawled out, surprised by Brutus' bloodlust. What he was proposing was mad—insane, in fact. To kill Caesar was just asking for trouble—a civil war would no doubt break out again, and he and the people were tired of the internal fighting. But he hated seeing Caesar take everything over with no shame or tact; it was like a slap to the face every time he strode into the circular hall and declared that they would be meeting all of his demands, one way or another. He was a brilliant man, but brilliant to the point of madness.

There was also the issue of trusting Brutus. He was close to Caesar, always had been. His mother and he had almost raised him together after his biological father was killed during a war with Pompey, and since then Caesar had acted as his father. Many were surprised he hadn't adopted Brutus, but politics probably got in the way. The point of the matter was that Brutus was inextricably linked to Caesar, and his motives may be to weed out the rats rather than kill the cat.

So which won out? His mistrust of Brutus and knowledge that if Caesar died, civil war would break out, or his crave for power and allegiance to the republic?

"We have not gone mad with greed, though. Caesar has overstepped his boundaries and you are well aware of this. I can see it in your eyes, Wesker—you have wanted to get rid of him for a long time, and now is your chance. I am coming to you as a friend, and as a desperate man. We need your help."

"Who is this we you keep referring to?" Albert asked, his gaze once again circling the room to see if he could see a spy among them.

"There are others," Brutus began, sitting back in his chair, the urgency gone for the most part. "I've been having meetings with others and they've all signed themselves to the cause."

"You mean the plot?"

Growling softly, Brutus looked away and glared at the floor before replying, once again leaning forward. "You're very quick to judge despite being a man who has more blood on his hands than any others."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Albert said quickly, frowning. He had dealt with assassinations before, yes, but he had never been the one to directly carry them out—not to mention they were petty killings, ones that amounted to nothing outside of his close social circle.

"Fine, pretend to be blind to your own deeds, but remember that this is necessary and I came to you with the cause for a reason."

"Who is involved?" he asked once again, wishing to get as much information as possible.

"I need to know you're on board," Brutus replied, sweat beading down his forehead. "I will not dirty anyone else's name if you're going to run to Antony or Caesar himself."

Thinking it over, Albert once again riffled through his options before replying. "I will not be a part of the deed itself… but I will not stop it nor will I tell anyone else. You may trust me to keep the secret, but if you call upon me to thrust the knife in his side I shall not rescind to your request."

"That is the coward's way out," Brutus said between his teeth, and yet, despite the tension, he seemed to have calmed down.

"Would you rather I just go and tell Caesar what you've planned, because I assure you I can be a very persuasive person, even without solid proof."

"You're a snake."

"As are you—Now who is a part of this?"

"Cassius, Galba, Longus, Spurius, Aquila, Cimber," he began, and Albert waited patiently while Brutus listed off those who had agreed to the deed. When he was done, Albert was surprised by the numbers.

"You seem to have every member of the senate."

"Not everyone, of course… but close. You were not the only one upset, Wesker."

"It appears not," he said, tapping his bottom lip. "Cicero was not on the list."

"No, but I was planning on speaking with him today."

"Don't bother," Albert cut in, already thinking ahead. "He has more of a vendetta against Antony—he'll request that we take him out as well, a suicide mission for sure. Instead he'll need to be distracted for as long as possible."

"Antony could be a threat as well," Brutus said, but seemed to immediately dismiss the idea. "He'll need to be distracted when it happens, you're right. Otherwise he'll probably kill the entire senate in his attempt to protect Caesar."

"So you intend to do the deed yourself?"

"We need to send a message, and we cannot do it by poisoning him or sending someone else to do it," Brutus explained, standing up so he could begin to pace around the now stuffy room. "We planned to all carry knives and swarm him—strength in numbers."

And Brutus dared to call him a coward. This would be a bloody, painful death for sure. Most of the men had never killed a person, let alone used a knife properly, and Caesar would have a terrible death because of this. But he kept his mouth shut, and let Brutus spill out their entire plan.

It seemed as if the tyrant would fall sooner than he thought.

* * *

**XX**

* * *

Lounging on the bed, Albert listened to the noise outside. The birds that lived in the trees in the courtyard were yelling, the servants in the house were shuffling about, and the occasional roll of wheels over cobblestones could be heard in the distance when a lull in all of the other sounds occurred.

He should have been up by now and already preparing for the day's events, but found himself taking a moment. If he got up right away the servants would be upon him, helping him dress, asking what he wanted for breakfast, pushing letters and requests in his hands before he even had a chance to say good morning to anyone. He found it a wonder he was even able to think straight most days.

It had been two weeks since Brutus had approached him with their assassination plot. Two weeks and yet nothing had happened. He hadn`t asked when it would occur, but Brutus himself probably did not know, either. Such things took planning, and he hoped that Brutus and the other conspirators were thinking everything through, including what could go wrong. As soon as one thought their plan was foolproof, they were doomed to fail.

Sighing, he continued to stare out the window, birds fluttering past every now and then. He was beginning to suspect they had set up a nest near the window.

"Sir?"

Lifting his head from the pillows, Albert raised a brow at the young servant near the door, her eyes full of worry. "Yes?"

"Well… There is someone here to see you."

Sighing, Albert wanted to crawl back under the covers and pretend to be dead. "Who is it, did you ask?"

"He called himself Redfield, sir. He looks… dangerous."

Snorting, Albert laid back down. "Send him in."

Nodding, she bowed before leaving the room. Staying in the bed, he went back to staring out the window until he saw movement at the door. Flicking his gaze over to the door, he motioned the slave to leave as Chris walked into the room.

"You're still in bed," he said, sounding a little surprised.

"I'm taking a moment for reflection." Stretching out on the bed, Albert held back a yawn. "I don't get to do it often, but it's a good thing for the mind to do."

Nodding, Chris stood near the bed, hands at his sides. Watching him, Albert smiled a little and pushed the blankets around his form down a little—it looked casual, but it was all on purpose. Since their encounter two weeks ago, Chris had been over two other times, and both times it ended with a very satisfying afterglow. He never seemed hesitant when they were in the full act of sex, but after he seemed nervous, as if he didn't know if what he had done was right.

Sex in the Roman world was relaxed, but there were social protocols for it, like with everything else. As long as you kept yourself in a dominant position and never let another man penetrate you, it was fine to sleep with whom you wanted. But, occasionally, there were some who looked down on the relationship between two freed men. Men were allowed to do whatever they wanted to do with their slaves, but if a free, male Roman citizen willingly allowed another man to dominate him, there could be repercussions. That was only in the most extreme cases, though, and for the most part no one cared what you did as long as you didn't do it on the street.

Unfortunately, Chris still seemed to struggle with this, even though Albert had done nothing to threaten his masculinity and status as a solider.

"What brings you here this morning?" he asked, waiting for Chris to do something. Instead, he continued to stand near the bed, shrugging out an answer. "You're not going to tell me, then?"

Shrugging again, Chris finally moved and sat on the side of the bed, furthest from Albert. "I feel… I feel comfortable here, 's all," he said, shrugging as he locked his fingers together.

Smirking, Albert reached out to take one of his hands in his own, playing with the fingers to feel where callouses had formed after years of using a sword. "How many men have you killed?" Flicking his eyes up, he stared intently at Chris.

"Too many to count," he said with ease, although there was a change in his demeanour when Albert asked the question. He was tenser.

"Do you remember your first one?"

"You never forget your first," he said, taking his hand back. Albert did not let him stray too far, though, and stretched out on the bed again, tempting him to stay. It worked, and Chris settled further into the bed.

"What did it feel like?"

"How do you mean?"

"What did it feel like to thrust the blade into him? See the life from him leave because of what you did?" he asked, and Albert could see a hunger lurking behind his eyes. It was that same wild look he had when he got in the fight on the street, and the same one he had as they fucked.

"It was… strange," Chris said, going to look out the window where the birds continually fluttered past. "It was easier than I expected… both mentally and physically. The sword just went through him with no resistance, you know. It was like he was as thin as a piece of parchment… But at the same time, there was some resistance there. I do not know if it was his body trying to stop it, or his soul as it left for the gates of the underworld. But for a second I felt something leave him. Like I had become death and his soul was leaving because of what I had done."

Albert listened carefully, watching Chris' lips as he formed the words and said them out loud. To take another man's life was a rush for him—he could hear it in his words and feel it in his kisses. "You enjoy the kill."

"I enjoy winning. And if killing someone who was going to kill me means that I win… then perhaps I do enjoy it," he mumbled as Albert tugged him down onto the bed. Following his pull easily, Chris laid down beside Albert; no longer able to resist the throbbing between his legs, Albert moved to kiss Chris deeply. He needed to feel that power again.

Giving in to him, Chris relaxed and grasped Albert's nude hips, tugging their forms together as Albert's fingers strayed down to fondle him under his tunic. Letting himself be consumed by the kiss, Albert tasted the hunger and the desire in it. It rested hot and thick on his tongue, and trailed down to pool at his growing erection.

"Tell me another tale," he panted out when they parted, and Chris obliged as they tasted each other once more.

* * *

**XX**

* * *

He had been tempted to do the deed himself. He wanted to take a man's life as well, to feel the thrill of another man's soul passing through him. He wanted to be death for but a second. But as soon as such notions arrived he tossed them away, and he was glad he had for what he was seeing now.

Standing in the forum, Albert held his head high as he watched the flames flick up to touch the sky, the body of Gaius Julius Caesar resting deep within the inferno. They had done it—Brutus and forty other men had successfully killed him, and with it the threat to the republic. The death was bloody and torturous, as he had suspected it would be. They were too weak, and although they swarmed him, their blows had no force behind them.

He bled out. A slow, painful death done by those who wanted to prove something.

Only what they had hoped would happen was bringing their destruction. The people of Rome loved Caesar and his populares roots, and when Brutus and Cassius had declared the death of their beloved ruler, they had no option but to flee the city.

In their wake they left a devastated city—a city that would not soon forget their deeds if Antony and Octavian fed off of the distrust, anger, and betrayal that permeated the stone and woodwork.

Looking up over the flames, Albert studied Octavian through the smoke and haze, seeing the face of a young eighteen year old who had been given the most power in the world. Caesar had left him everything—his property, his money, his position of power, and his name.

Antony was infuriated with this, though, and Albert wondered what would become of this feud after the dust had settled and the blame was no longer able to be placed on Brutus and Cassius. Time would tell.

In the meantime, Albert would once again wait in the shadows, his hands clean of any blood, proclaiming his innocence. They would all destroy themselves, and those patient enough to wait it out would be rewarded in due time. Patience was the key… Patience and determination.

* * *

**XX**

* * *

Eleven months had passed—eleven long months in which Wesker began to realize everything was changing far too quickly for his liking.

Excella returned from the villa only days before she was due, and ended up giving birth to a baby boy, a relief for both of them. While having a girl was not the end of the world, her political career would have always been in the shadows; manipulating the affairs of those around her, but never achieving any glory for the name. But a son secured the family line, and both Excella and Albert had hopes for his political career.

Excella's return, though, meant he could not see Chris as often as he would have liked. The young man had begun to worm his way into his life, and he was finding it odd to wake up next to his wife rather than his lover. He had started to miss the stories he was told—a means in which he could escape for a short time. Instead, he was once again pulled into the political world, his mind constantly running as everything stayed stagnant, as if people were afraid to say or do anything. Octavian was biding his time, Antony was vowing revenge, and another player, Lepidus, was beginning to cause a stir in the power balance.

What was certain, though, was war was going to be called upon Brutus and Cassius soon enough. After the initial assassination of Caesar, the men who had done the deed were granted amnesty, a move proposed by Antony. But Octavian had recently obtained consulship at the young age of nineteen, and had Brutus and Cassius declared as murderers who should be punished—directly going against what Antony had suggested.

Tension was mounting between Antony and Octavian, which meant that tension was once again mounting in the senate. Albert was trying to keep back for as long as possible, until he heard that Cicero had messaged Brutus, informing him of the increased tension between the two men, and perhaps now would be the time to strike.

Knowing such valuable information and not knowing who to tell, Albert was beginning to grow frustrated. Both Antony and Octavian were too volatile, and despite wanting to keep the senate and the republic intact, he was becoming more and more wary of their personal ambitions. They were close to Caesar, and therefore they were most likely influenced by his ideals.

The republic was once again threatened, only this time civil war seemed to be the only option.

"Stop pacing," Chris said from his seat on the bed. Pausing only a moment, Albert gave him a stern look before he continued his pacing.

"I can't—I have things to work out," he said, frustrated with his lack of power. If only he could dispose of both Octavian and Antony; strangle their last breath away; destroy them and everything they stood for. The most important thing was the republic and the power—he was not going to see the opportunity that they had when Caesar died lost.

"We have the evening for ourselves for once, and all you can do is pace," Chris said after a time, his gaze never leaving Albert's form. Finally stopping, Albert looked at the naked man on the bed and sighed, realizing how foolish he was being. It wasn't every day he got to be with him, and tonight was special. Excella had gone to a women-only party, and the children were being watched by the wet nurse. They had the evening to themselves, and yet…

"Your general is an idiot," he said, going to sit on the bed.

"General Antony?"

"Yes… He's trying to play his hand at politics with a man far more intelligent than he is." Running a hand through his hair, he sent one of the oil lamps a glare as it flickered.

"There were rumours he was attempting to rally troops again," Chris said after a time, and Albert finally turned to look at him. "I was told to sign up."

"What for?" he asked, turning around so he was sitting cross-legged on the mattress.

"I don't know—the details are sketchy."

Humming, Albert frowned once more. What was Antony up to now? "Are you going to sign up?"

"I pledged my allegiance to him when I joined the first time," he said, going to stretch out on the bed like a big cat. Letting his eyes roam, Albert trailed a hand up his stomach before running along the scar on his chest.

"That means you'll be leaving if he does," Albert said. It wasn't a question, simply a statement of fact.

"Yes," he finally said, locking eyes with him. "I'm sorry, Wesker, but I have to go if I am called."

Rolling his eyes, Albert didn't say anything for a time and just continued to trace the scars and blemishes he found on his soldier. "Just remember that you are mine."

"When I return I'll have stories to tell you," he said, and Albert couldn't help but smile.

"Do try and make them exciting," he said, moving to kiss him.

Three days later, Antony marched his forces to Gaul.

* * *

**XX**

* * *

Antony had begun a war with Octavian. Octavian had wanted to start a war with Brutus and Cassius. Brutus wanted to strike when Octavian was weak… and Antony just wanted blood.

It ended with Brutus committing suicide, Cassius dead on the battle field, and the beginning of the end for the republic with the signing of the Second Triumvirate. Knowing he was unable to take Brutus' legions on his own, a treaty was formed between Antony and Octavian, and uneasy truce that was held up by their desire to destroy the lives of those who had wronged Caesar. Eventually Lepidus, an intelligent but more relaxed man joined the fray, signing the triumvirate in exchange for the use of his armies.

The battle of Philippi was where everything came to a head, and when the dust had settled, the dreams of everyone who had wished for the continuation of the republic fell.

* * *

**XX**

* * *

Throwing a vase against the wall, Albert watched the pieces break off in all directions, the sound of pottery against plaster satisfying to him. Picking up another vase, he tossed it too, yelling out his frustrations as the servants stood back, amazed by the sudden explosion of violence.

"Calm down, you're ruining the house!" Excella cried out, her hands pushing his arm down as he attempted to grab another object to toss. Yanking his arm back, he lashed out and hit her across the face, sending her falling to the ground. Momentarily astounded by his use of force, Albert looked down at his wife, realizing what he had just done.

Unable to fix it, though, he watched as their servants bent down to help her up. Tears streaked her face as she looked at him through her now messy hair, but there was no sadness in her gaze, only unfiltered rage.

"You touch me again, and I will cut you to pieces and feed you to the dogs," she growled out, pushing her favourite slave away as she attempted to soothe the red burn on her cheek. Storming past him, Albert stared at the floor where pottery littered it, wondering what had become of his plans.

* * *

**XX**

* * *

"You're back."

"Did you think I had died?" he asked, kissing along his jaw as soon as they embraced.

"Perhaps… Brutus controlled a strong force," he said, eyes closing as rough hands dragged across his back, skin catching on the soft silk of his tunic.

"Not as strong as the one I was in," Chris said, tossing his tunic across the room. The smell of his musk and leather overtook Albert, and he let his warrior take him away.

* * *

**XX**

* * *

The next day, Cicero's chopped off hands were nailed to the door of the senate house. It was a warning for those who crossed Antony. A blatant display of barbarism in the center of Rome.

Albert could hardly believe his eyes.

* * *

**XX**

* * *

None of the senate members had been privy to the private meeting, but they had to endure what was said and what was decided without them. The republic was collapsing—no longer was its survival a given. In fact, it was dead, the life from it leaving at a steady pace and everyone was powerless to stop it.

Albert had his wish of knowing what it felt like to take the life from something. For some reason, he disliked it more than he thought he would.

The empire had been divided. Octavian controlled the West, including Rome. Antony had the East, including the fertile Egypt. And Lepidus was given Africa.

The senate had nothing.

* * *

**XX**

* * *

He hadn't meant for it to go like this. They had begun to yell at each other, and a few hits were shared. He was now sitting on one of his chairs, blood pooling out of his nose, staining his white tunic as Chris headed to the door, clothes in disarray.

"There is going to be a war, and I told you I was leaving," Chris said, spitting some blood out on the floor. "Like it or not, your precious republic is dead, and all that is left is who's going to take over."

Growling, Albert ran a hand under his nose, the blood flowing less and less, yet it continued to stain his hands crimson. "By leaving to support him, you're simply destroying Rome more than she already has been—Antony is a lost cause, Chris. He's forsaken his Roman ideals, insulted Octavian and his sister, and married a barbarian queen. Supporting him in this is suicide."

"I have no choice," Chris said, and once again Albert grew enraged. Standing up, he stared Chris down, eyes wide.

"You do have a choice! You bloody well have the chance to come to Octavian's side and support him! It's suicide what you're doing! You're a fool and you _will_ die if you go to Egypt."

Shaking his head, Chris stayed where he was, but gave Albert a look of pity rather than rage. "You may be able to change your ideals in order to save your own skin, but I'm not like you. I cannot forget everything in the blink of an eye, I cannot stab a man in the back to get my way—I cannot stand back and watch everything fall apart and do nothing. I'm a soldier who swore his allegiance to Antony, and if that means dying in order to uphold that oath, then so be it. I am not like you."

"Not like me?" Albert asked, eyes narrowing as he stared at Chris, the air thick.

"I have honour, and although I have killed, my hands are not as stained as yours are," Chris said, and Albert could hear the pity in his voice. It sickened him.

"You are a fool," Albert hissed out, wishing that Chris would forget his 'honour' and his ideals and save his own skin. This was suicide.

"Maybe you're right…" he said, his wild eyes staring deep into Albert's own icy grey. "Because falling in love with you was the most foolish thing I've ever done."

That was the last time Albert ever heard his voice.

* * *

**XX**

* * *

News reached Rome quickly. Cleopatra and Antony lost their army at the naval battle of Actium to Octavian's strong legions. Not long had passed before Antony committed suicide, believing that Cleopatra had killed herself the night before—a suicide done out of love, not dignity. It was pitiful, most declared.

Cleopatra's suicide turned out to be a fake one, but one the Egyptian queen soon regretted. Octavian promised to spare her and her youngest children their lives, on the condition that she visit to Rome for a while. He wanted to humiliate her. He wanted to show the world what he was capable of and make an example of her—he wanted to chain her and parade her around like some puppet. Just try to take his power, and see where it got you.

And so she, too, killed herself—an asp bite to her breast. It was quick and effective, and Octavian was left with a broken Egyptian kingdom, the bodies of two great leaders, and all of Rome.

Soon, the Roman Empire would begin.

* * *

**XX**

* * *

The divorce went through. Excella would take the children, the money, the villa—everything. Albert was fine enough with the dealings, realizing his time was up soon enough.

He had played his cards wrong. He had been so blinded by self-preservation that he forgot who he was and what his purpose was. He couldn't handle seeing anyone but himself in power, and eventually it consumed him completely.

The republic was gone. His senatorial position meant nothing with Emperor Augustus in charge. His manipulations and careful study of his fellow colleagues amounted to nothing. He had lost everything in a dangerous gamble involving human lives and dignity. He mourned for the loss of his pride. He mourned for the loss of what was once a promising future. He mourned for the loss of the republic.

Most of all, though, Albert mourned for the loss of his wild soldier. How he longed to hear another one of his stories, to feel the touch of his rough hands, and to taste the pomegranate seeds on his lips once more. But that, too, was gone, ripped from his grasp violently so that all that was left were his bloody palms.

No longer did Albert lust for the kill as he had so long ago. He knew what it felt like to take another man's life—more so than the most hardened of fighters. Brutus was right…

"_You're very quick to judge despite being a man who has more blood on his hands than any other."_

Staring at his own hands, Albert mused to himself, whispering what Brutus had told him years ago. The sound from the bird nest next to the window carried to him, bringing him a moment of peace in an otherwise chaotic time. Continuing to stare at his hands, he only looked up when one of the servants entered the room.

"Run me a hot bath," he said, catching the servant off guard. Clearly she had not seen him sitting alone at his desk.

"Are you sure, sir? It's a very hot day and tonight it won't be much cooler—"

"I am sure," he said, turning his gaze back to his hands. His last act as a Roman citizen would happen tonight. He had lost, and the dishonour he felt was too much for a Roman such as himself. He would do the honourable thing tonight.

Death was more welcome to him than the thought of being everything his beautiful warrior accused him of.

* * *

_**Before I have anyone start complaining that Wesker would never commit suicide, please keep in mind that this is ancient Rome.** Their perception of suicide is much different than ours. In Rome, committing suicide was the honourable thing to do if you failed your duty as a Roman citizen; you would gain back some of your honour this way. The only time when suicide was looked down upon was if it was a soldier, a slave, or done out of love (as was the case with Antony). In any matter, I hoped you enjoyed this little adventure through Rome and the fall of the Republic, and I hope that I didn't butcher the characters too much! Thank you for reading!_


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